


The Lives We Couldn't Save

by NekoNoKitiKiti



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alcoholic Thrawn, All hurt no comfort, Gen, Gilad doesnt make it worse but he doesnt make it better, Glowing Red Eyes as a character movement device, Guilt and Grieving, He still does Terrible Things, I dont remember exact episodes, Spoilers for Rebels seasons 3 and 4, Thrawn is maybe Not So Bad A Person, can be read as platonic Thrawn&Pellaeon or established relationship, no beta we die like men, we tried for Alcoholic Adjacent Thrawn and he turned full alcoholic while writing so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoNoKitiKiti/pseuds/NekoNoKitiKiti
Summary: Thrawn has killed citizens of Lothal twice. He doesn't like that fact.Or:Two times Thrawn has had a crisis in private, once with Pellaeon and once with Ezra.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Gilad Pellaeon & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Kudos: 25





	The Lives We Couldn't Save

**Author's Note:**

> Quick clarification: the first drabble is set just after Thrawn inspects the Imperial factory on Lothal, and the second is set after Ezra yeets himself and Thrawn into space. Have fun reading all the angst :3
> 
> Rating is just for the heaviness of subject matter.

The request for access to his quarters beeped at him from his datapad.

He had already sent Rukh away, wanting to be alone for his time off duty.

But, when you were already through half a bottle of whiskey, you threw caution to the wind, even if you were as calculating as Thrawn.

He punched in the code, his movements ever so slightly exaggerated from the alcohol in his system; enough for him to feel weightless and loose, not yet truly drunk. Not quite enough to really stop his mind, which never quit otherwise.

He would have preferred to be drunk already.

The door opened, and Pellaeon walked a couple steps in, surveying for Rukh's customary attack whenever Pellaeon stepped into Thrawn's more private spaces.

He seemed pleasantly surprised to not be assaulted this time. The look faded when he finally saw Thrawn.

It was pretty obvious Thrawn had been drinking from the bottle, no glasses in sight. 

And if the cap having been tossed to the side was any indication, he really had drank half a bottle already.

'...Sir? You did ask me to report after my shift, did you not?'

It wasn't like him to forget something like that. Thrawn stiffened in his seat, drink addled brain running through messages he had sent.

He  _had_ messaged Pellaeon to report, much earlier in the evening when he hadn't felt. Quite so ready to start drinking.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then waved Pellaeon over to sit.

'I suppose I did. I must apologize for the time you have caught me at, Gilad.'

While he had been at parade rest, waiting for orders to give some report or another, the human's posture loosened and relaxed at the use of his first name. He came over and sat, as he was bade.

'You've been drinking again... What happened planetside?'

The tone in Pellaeon's voice was stern; it was from concern, and Thrawn thought that perhaps made him feel  _worse_. Condemning, though Gilad would never direct that towards him without reason.

Perhaps if he hadn't been drinking, he could have approached that with his usual neutral face. Calmly explained that, yes, what he had done had bothered him as he did it. Pellaeon knew very well the Empire, Pryce especially, would not have appreciated him letting people off the hook once again.

As it was, he  _had_ been drinking, however, and he was particularly aware of how his face twisted in disgust.

Gilad sucked in a breath. His tone became softer, tentative.

'...bad, then.'

Thrawn might have felt the grief to his core, but he wasn't the type to show it openly. There were no tears, and aside from the disgust a moment ago, there was little else.

He eyed the half gone bottle of whiskey once again, though. 

'They were civilians, Gilad. They were no soldiers. They weren't even rebels. They were simply civilians cunning enough to infiltrate our factories in some hope it would upset the Empire's rule over them. Saboteurs, perhaps, but they were not committed to the Rebellion. Not like others.'

The need got to him. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and slammed it back. He pointedly focused on the burn down his throat rather than the look Gilad was giving him.

'I know you, Thrawn. You did what was necessary.'

While it was meant to comfort, it didn't.

'I killed them, Gilad. These were people that had families they saw daily, families they worked to provide for. And for the smallest, misguided act against the Empire, I killed them.'

Pellaeon seemed to change tactics, since comfort did not seem to work.

'They were saboteurs, though.'

The whiskey bottle slammed against the tabletop; it was a wonder the glass didn't shatter. Thrawn's voice was soft when he spoke, however, thicker with emotion than it normally came out.

'They were  _civilians_.'

And Pellaeon knew that was the heart of the problem. Thrawn would never fuss so over lives lost from their own or the Rebellion's side; he would never be  happy to lose life, but in those cases, they knew what happened in war.

A civilian was a civilian for a reason, however. They were not meant to be put in that place. Not to Thrawn, at least.

When Pellaeon looked up from his musings, the bottle of whiskey was empty. Thrawn had his head in his hands, and from experience, Pellaeon knew the alcohol was finally settling in and the light would be aggravating a drink induced headache.

Thrawn didn't protest when Gilad pulled one of his arms over his shoulders and guided him to bed.

* * *

Thrawn wasn't back yet.

And while it usually  _wouldn't_ have bothered Ezra, Thrawn did not make it a habit of being away from their camp at night.

Ezra suspected that even if he quoted 'not needing as much sleep as a human, especially an adolescent human' and 'someone needs to keep watch at night', Thrawn still liked to rest until dawn broke the next day.

It was twilight already.

He felt he should find him, some gut feeling that he trusted. Hell, he had trusted his instincts while surviving on the streets, and learning to use the Force had taught him to trust a feeling like this even more.

Reaching out, it wasn't hard to find him; Ezra was actually surprised to find he was much closer at hand than anticipated.

Not far from their camp was a stream with an outcrop of rock forming a steep bank. Thrawn sat atop the outcrop with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms folded on top.

It was more closed off than Ezra had expected, even from Thrawn.

And the area was tinged with a deep melancholy, amplified by the last of purple sunlight just on the horizon between the trees.

A shiver ran up Ezra's spine when he tried to gauge Thrawn's face; he still wasn't quite used to red eyes glowing in the darkness settling in around them.

'You didn't come back like you usually do. Before nightfall, I mean.'

There was stillness and silence, for a few beats.

'...I wanted to be left alone.'

Ezra thought to just walk away, but he couldn't leave well enough alone.

'...I can tell you're grieving, you know. It's weird, when you aren't usually so easy to read, even through the Force.'

While he expected anger or annoyance, he got none. Just a steady question.

'Do you not have necessary moments of vulnerability, Bridger?'

While it was perhaps rhetorical, he answered anyway.

'Well, yeah. I just didn't expect that from you of all people.'

There were enough beats of silence that Ezra considered heading back to camp again. Thrawn spoke just before he started to leave, though.

'...I don't take these moments well.'

Ezra rocked on his feet.

'I don't suppose anyone does.'

This time he started back without waiting long. He had barely gotten a few paces away when Thrawn rose his voice, just slightly.

'It's about Lothal.'

Ezra spun around to give him a look despite not being able to actually see him for the dark.

He was defensive.

'...What about Lothal?'

He saw more of the red glow, as if Thrawn had turned to face him just slightly more.

'I did not want to open fire. But the position your rebellion had left me no choice at the time. Even after you surrendered yourself, I could not tell you the full extent of how much I disliked doing that.'

The glow turned away.

'I am not Imperial any longer, however. I must apologize for the necessity of it, and for the lives it no doubt ended.'

Anger boiled in Ezra.

And then it left; while he may have gotten better at his anger passing, he still tended to linger in bitterness.

'Why tell me this now? Why didn't you just not open fire on them, then? If it mattered so much, why didn't you try to form a plan that avoided it, that's what you're good at, right?'

Once again, if he expected anger, he got none in return.

Instead, he got what sounded like a resigned sigh and the sound of Thrawn flopping onto his back on the stone.

'Certainly you understand that as a soldier, you can't allow your personal views to affect what is expected of you. And what was expected of me was to end your rebellion on Lothal in any way necessary. That does not mean that I agreed with the decision on a moral level. Though, there are no morals in war.'

Ezra still felt defensive.

'So what, you're telling me you're grieving over the people you killed on Lothal? If it was necessary like you said, then why grieve over it?'

Red eyes glowed at him from the ground a short ways away.

'I do not like to destroy life, Bridger. I am especially adverse to killing civilians.'

The anger came back.

'And the factory? When you had civilians killed by firing squads and testing their own sabotaged work? I was there. I watched a friend of my parents'  _die_. Did you grieve then? Or is it only now that we've been removed from the war and you have time to think about everything you've done?'

A beat.

'...I grieved then.

'...You have no idea how much I would love a bottle of whiskey right now.'

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting for this fandom. I'd love feedback on characterizations, for future fics and endeavors :3


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